Wednesday, December 17, 2014

This Saturday afternoon, from some dingy smelly gym in Collegeville, PA, me and Zoo With Roy (never met him!) will be calling a college basketball game on Ursinus's sports website. I know, it's ridiculous, but it's also amazing! And OBV-EE-US-LEE, I'm sure you have a laundry list of questions because you're super annoying and always need MORE MORE MORE informashe, so here's my attempt at answering some of the FAQs that I've been hit with in the past 24 hours (by my mother).

Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?
This Saturday afternoon, a group of sweaty young men will be running around a gymnasium while trying to shoot a round leather ball into a steel orange cup, and me and a complete and total stranger will be talking about it, live, on the internet.

How the freak is this happening?
Here's the deal: there's this dude on Twitter named Wags, and apparently he's the Director of Sports Somethingorother at Ursinus College (which is a real school that has a real basketball team) and he thought it'd be a good idea to let me and Zoo call the game. So we are. And it's going to be incredible. Wags said he's baking cookies. Also his name is Wags!

So you've never met Zoo With Roy before?
Never. But we have emailed a bunch and obviously collabo-blogged and recently exchanged phone numbers. We also have plans to meet up for breakfast beforehand so we can get to know each oths and build a rapport and possibly share some Eggs Benedict (and then get double bing-bong dye-dyes shortly afterward).

Refresh my memory, what is "dye-dyes" again?
Diarrhea.

How can I watch this stupid game?
It's not stupid! It's pure, unadulterated fun. Online, at portal.stretchinternet.com/ursinus. I think we go live on-air at 12:50pm, but maybe 12:55pm, it's hard to say because we're getting our instructions from a guy who is literally planning on baking cookies for the game. So far the only directions we've been given are "no cursing." I'm guessing they'll cut the feed around 1:04.

Hold up. Have you ever done anything like this before?
Actually, yes! When I was in my early 20s, I worked for the Scholastic Play-by-Play Network, and used to call high school football and basketball games on the radio. It was sort of fun and sort of a nightmare. Once -- for a game that was going to be aired on tape delay -- I had to sit in the stands (among the common folk!) and talk into a tape recorder while a bunch of high school kids just stared at me and got pissed off that I literally talked (and yelled) the entire game. It was so embarrassing. But I did give a shout-out to some hot mom who was sitting nearby and she totally made eyes with me and it was HAWT.

Speaking of total hotness, is TVMWMWMWMMWMWM still a thing?
Yes again! I've obvs been busy with the whole 700 Levvy thing and not blogging about television my wife watches (because my wife has been constantly watching old eps of 90210, ughghghhhh), but The Bach comes back the first week in January and, ugh again, yes, I will be watching and blorging about it.

Anything else?
Ursinus has not won a game all season. They're 0-7. The 0 stands for zero. As in no wins. They have yet to win a game. Sad for them.

Friday, December 5, 2014

Yo… yo… yo… I own a sweatshirt that says “Haters Gonna Hate”. It’s obviously stupid and completely ridiculous, but it’s also amazing (and you know it!). I wear it pretty much all the time and it doesn’t matter what you think about it because no one cares about your fat dumb face. Just like it doesn’t matter what this idiot said about the new Wu-Tang album or this nimrod here. The only thing that matters is this: I dare you… I DARE YOU… to listen to the first minute of this album, and if afterwards you do not want to rob a bank, rock a fur coat or tomahawk dunk over BOTH Lopez twins, then you are living a goddamn lie.

This new Wu album is BOMB.

Or dope.

Or whatever the hell people say these days when they’re trying to say that they liked a new rap album. Also, let it be known that this post was #BANNED from The 700 Level. Also check out this Wu-Tang potato that came with my scrambled eggs.

I know!

Don’t get me wrong; I was skeptical of their new album. I’m 37 years old. I own three pairs of slippers. Read that again. THREE. DIFFERENT. PAIRS. I see a dermatologist every six months so he can check my moles for cancer. I am not exactly the Inspectah Deck’s target demographic. I am currently eating soup.
Even people fifteen years younger than me – the people who are supposed to actually listen to rap music – were like, what, three years old when 36 Chambers came out? My three-year-old nephew thinks he’s a pirate. Like, he legitimately thinks he’s a pirate. He doesn’t even know what the freak a pirate is, but dude will straight-up roll up on you waving his fist in the air goin’ “Arggghh!” if you step to him. How am I supposed to respond to that? Dude can’t even put on his own socks. And yet he’s supposed to appreciate “causin’ more family feuds than Richard Dawson”?

A Better Tomorrow is not the greatest rap album in the history of music, but it’s better than 99% of the other dogshit out there. And it’s got everything we’ve come to expect from the Wu: crazy kung fu beats, the ODB yelling nonsense, songs about one guy blowing another guy’s tits off. I didn’t even think the Wu-Tang Clan still carried guns (aren’t they rich?!), but apparently they do. Or at least they’d like us to think they still do. And I for one believe ‘em! Either way, listening to them rap about killing people this week gave me the same feeling it did 20 years ago: I want to shoot a man in his face and cop his sneakers.

Besides the hard-hitting samples and ching-chang chinga ching-ching sounds, what sets the Wu apart has always been their nine distinct flows (RIP Ol’ Dirty). Nine different voices. NINE. As in more than six, seven OR eight. And on this new jawn, these niner have come up with some lyrical gems.
On the song “Crushed Egos,” Raekwon claims he owns an alpaca coat. That means he has a fur coat made of alpacas. Later, he says he wears bulletproof PJs. Cappadonna says he has a different robe for every day of the week. There’s also a reference to The Ultimate Warrior. And Calvin Johnson. And Justin Tuck. And there’s even a song called “Ron O’Neal” about the actor who played the cocaine dealer in Superfly. I have no idea if that’s amazing or not, but that seems absolutely amazing.

But the best line of the album – the best line BY FAR – comes from Ghostface (obvs), who on the song “Felt” describes a time when he was strugglin’ by saying, “felt like Dragonfly Jones was draggin’ fly Tone.” Now, obviously I didn’t know what the hell he was talkin’ about. I never know what these guys are talking about. But I knew Ghost’s nickname was Tony Starks, so I knew he was obviously talkin’ about himself, but I had to google who the hell Dragonfly Jones was. Turns out, Dragonfly Jones was this karate master from Martin:

Dragonfly Jones!

That’s why Ghost is the best.

That’s why Martin is the best.

YOU NEED TO WATCH THAT VIDEO.

Look, some people are gonna complain about this album because people are the worst. There’s a ballad song called “Miracle” that’s pretty dumb, and there’s another jawn with way too much guitar, and the fellas mention “kicking rocks” around 17 too many times. But there’s also a part where Ghostface does an impression of ODB saying “Muh-RYE-ah” that is spot-on and hilarious.

The bottom line is: the Killa Beez dropped a new album – and even if it’s not as ill as some of their old stuff, and it kinda sucks that they’re not as tight-knit as we always thought they were – the Killa Beez dropped a new album! It’s still got RZA weaving guitar strums into gunshots. It’s still got Method Man smokin’ weed with Red. It’s still preaching the Tao of Wu: get knowledge, make money, stick together, and shoot mofos before they shoot you.

In the title track “A Better Tomorrow,” Method Man asks, “Tired of waiting? Get yo weight up.” And whether you’re a pimple-faced teenager discovering Wu for the first time, or a thirtysomething white bull who is literally watching The Mindy Project as he types this sentence, the wait is over. The Wu is back. And while they might not be better than ever, they will still shoot you right in your throat.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

There was a time in my life when I was cool. That's not true. That's not even close to true. But there was a time in my life when I played basketball, and hence, hung out with black people. It was glorious. We listened to Redman. We played Madden. One time my boy Jermaine let me wear his gold tiger medallion to the club. No he didn't, he let me wear it to Wawa. Still, y'all can't even front, you know I looked fly as fuck ordering that meatball hoagie.

But those days are long gone. Now, the only black people I come in contact with are two semi-black people I work with (they both have health insurance) and the brothers who sell mix CDs on the corner of Broad and Chestnut. My life has never been so boring. I literally watch Antiques Roadshow every Thursday. But last Saturday, on a night normally reserved for sweatpants, I put on my dopest outfit because my wife's workmate (who is like, legit black, like she lives in North Philly and everything) invited us to her 40th birthday party at a Center City bar.

Now, what you need to understand is, we were the only whities invited. Like, the ONLY ones. And this was fine, because black people literally don't give a shit about anything, but it still helped when Sandra (the woman whose birthday it was) came over and gave us big ole hugs when we got there. She at least made us feel like we sort of belonged. For the first five minutes of the party, my wife and I just stood around and tried not to be annoying (while I stuffed my face with meatballs) until my wife excused herself so she could use the bathroom. I figured instead of pretending to scroll through my Instagram feed, I might as well approach the beautiful nubian princess standing at the bar. Because that's what life is all about, isn't it?

These are not the chicks I was hanging out with...but they very well could have been.

My opening line was fucking terrible. Just terrible. I mumbled something weird about wanting to go through her purse (it was resting on the bar) and she played along nicely, saying I wouldn't find much in it if I did, but I quickly realized that I was losing her. Then she ordered a club soda from the bartender, and I noticed a little baby bump on her bell, so I figured I'd go for it.

"Are you expecting?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"How far along are you?"

"Six and a half months."

"Ohhh SCHNAP!" I said. "That's pretty far along."

And that's when Tamika lost it. Tamika (that was her name, the black woman's name was Tamika) started cracking up and turned to her friend next to her and goes, "Oh no he said 'Oh snaps.'" Not what I said. I would never say, "Oh snaps," but whatever. I had ingratiated myself among them.

Tamika and I kept talking for a few minutes (about pregnancy, her husband, and why I thought Miles was a much better name than Bacari), but then when I went to take a sip of my drink I somehow got my straw wedged in between my nose and my glasses. I don't even know how that's possible, to get a plastic straw jammed against your face, but there I was, talking to a beautiful black (pregnant) woman for like eight seconds with a goddamn straw dangling off my face.

When I realized the straw was there, I quickly yanked it loose and said to Tamika, "Yo Tamika, did you see what I just did?" and she was like, "Yeah, but I didn't wanna say anything," and I was like, "YOU GOTTA TELL ME THAT SHIT, WOMAN. I'M WHITE!" and that's when Tamika and I became best friends forever.

Later, when I was talking to a lady who was recently voted one of the TOP 19 MOST STYLISH WOMEN IN PHILLY about my skateboarding giraffe hat (and whether or not I was cool enough to wear it), I knocked a full drink off the bar and spilled club soda everywhere. Then I apologized to a couple brothers wearin' sport-coats and asked "Did I get you?" and they said "Naw it's cool." My wife then yelled at me to clean it up so I got on my hands and knees to tried and soak up the mess with cocktail napkins while the Top 19 lady just stood there bouncing to that song "I Ain't Never Scared" by Bone Crusher.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

In my 37 years in this world, I have made a lot of stupid decisions.
Like the time I brought a girl back to my dorm room freshman year and put on a Counting Crows CD. We stayed up all night chatting about her ex-boyf. It was awes.

There were the four years I spent teaching middle school, otherwise known as "Ev's Therapy Years." That was fun.

Then of course how could I forget about the BRILLIANT decision to start this blog. Great career move there, Ev. You're on your way to Grantland!

But of all the boneheaded decisions I've made, the worst one ever, BY FAR the absolute worst, was when I casually mentioned to my wife that old eps of Beverly Hills 90210 were now being shown on TVGN, which is an actual channel that broadcasts a signal that our cable provider provides.

Now you may think, "Whatever Ev, you're just being dramatic. That show's fun. It's stupid, but it's fun. So stop complaining. Just stop. For once in your life, would it kill you to stop complaining about something? And what is with the mouth breathing? There's ways to stop that, ya know. Breathe Rites. Surgery. Killing yourself." But you don't understand. In the past three days, we have watched roughly 84 episodes of this godforsaken show. My wife fucking loves it. LOVES IT. And I don't understand any of it. Like, why would the Walshes give their children names that sound sooooo similar? And is Megan Fox aware of what her husband used to sound like? And what the FUCK is wrong with Brandon?

But there is one character who I have taken a shine to. One character who I feel for, and relate to, and desperately want to hold in my arms. It's Andrea. It's obviously Andrea. You knew that before you started reading this. Her name is mentioned in the title of this post. It's a dead giveaway. Literally, if you look at the top of this webpage, you will see the word "Andrea" written in big, bold letters. There's even a picture of her. I don't know why we're still talking about it. Regardless, I am absolutely smitten with the 47-year-old high school student who has zero redeeming qualities.

There's just something about her annoying, boring demeanor. I feel sorry for her! Forced to hang out with all those young people, with a vagina that is essentially broken. Maybe it's her oversized glasses. Or her fashion sense (or lack thereof). Maybe it's the fact that I'm the type of person who writes stuff like "or lack thereof" and think that maybe she'd sleep with me. Either way, I'm intrigued. I'm so, so intrigued. I've never been more intrigued by anyone ever. So I figured why not make Andrea this week's Wednesday Wifey and do some research to find out who the hell this lady is (and see if she's still alive).

Turns out she is!

And is currently married to Alan Thicke's brother, Dick Thicke (not his name). Absolutely amazing that Dick Thicke buttons his shirt allllllllllll the way up. And not just on this one occasion...

... but all the time!

The whole point of not wearing a tie is that you don't have to button your shirt all the way up! I mean, what is this guy doing to himself? YOU DON'T NEED THAT TOP BUTTON, DICK. I went to a wedding last weekend (whilst wearing a tie) and complained the entire night that I was being choked out by Ricky the Dragon Steamboat. Nice hedges in Andrea's backyard by the way. Looks like Wrigley. Do you think he stuffed that shawl in her mouth later that night? I do. I obviously do.

Despite being out of the public eye for well over a decade, Andrea still has a bunch of Hollywood friends (which is nice for her!). Here she is with left to right: Billie Jean King, that deaf lady (by the way, how bout her BOD?! I see you def lady swingin' out dem birthin' hips!) and Irv Gumbel.

Turns out Andrea is still making movies. Here she is on the set of MALPRACTICE (directed by Micky Dolenz from the Monkees and I'm not kidding!). For the record, this picture was taken in 2001. That's 13 years ago. So Andrea is now 13 years older than she looks in this pic. Yeesh.

Pretty hot gunplay she's getting into there though. Not surprising considering Andj is a total nymph-bot. Here's proof:

Be honest, this picture is hot as fuck. Gagging herself with that Dixon Ticonderoges. The taste of stale wood in her mouth. Struggling to talk as she begs for an extension. "But Mr. Evster, I just need one more night to work on my paper!" Yeah, you need one more night, all right. One more night in my dank basement. *kicks water bowl toward groveling woman, water spilling out onto the cold pavement* No idea where I'm going with this. That's not true. We all know exactly where I'm going with this. I'm making a teenage woman drink out of a water bowl. It was the obvious next step. Maybe I'll bring her some saltines too (if she's good).

Seriously, Andrea is HAWT and you know it.

So let's go rapid fire through some of her hottest super sonic hotness pics.

Here's Ahhhnndrea lookin' like a cross between an old Chrissy Evert and an even older Martha Washington. Cleave is straight bangin' too. You can't deny it.

84 years old, and she's still got it. Not really diggin' that low-fat vegan cheese pizza, but lovin' her Katie Couric Jr. hairstyle. I have no idea what the point of this blogpost is. Absolutely no idea. Thanks for reading.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Enough with the sweating and the mosquitoes and the shooting black teenagers in their heads. Finally we can get back to doing what we were put on this earth to do... shooting black teenagers! I mean, watching televorsion!

There's some great shows coming to TV this fall: Rain Man the sitcom; Four Guys and a Dog;Frorvsville! (really looking forward to that one), but here are a few others that are 100% TVMWMWWWWMW approved.

Best Show That You Should Absolutely Be Watching But Don't Get Mad at Me if You Don't Like ItJonah from Tonga, HBO

A spinoff of Chris Lilley's Summer Heights High, Jonah from Tonga is hilaaaarrrrrrious. (For those of you who are like, "Ev, what the fuck are you talking about?" Chris Lilley is an Australian actor/writer/comedian who has had a bunch of shows on HBO where he plays like a million characters, kinda like Eddie Murphs. Summer Heights High is probably his most well-known show, about a public high school in Australia, and Jonah (a Tongan aborigini teenager) is his funniest character and a total, total shithead. The show follows Jonah (Chris Liley) and his crew around as they curse off teachers, dick tap each other and breakdance right in people's fat faces. Highly recommended for those of you who like British-type humour, dumb teenage bullshit, and shows that don't suck butt. For the record, my wife has never once watched this show with me. Ever.

Best Show to Watch with Your Wife or Partner or Someone Who Doesn't Want to Watch Thursday Night Football Every Goddamn Thursday NightMarried, FX

This show sounds supes lame: a stupid couple in their late 30's struggle with raising kids and being old and shit, but it's actually really really funny and dark. Married stars Nat Faxon (Ben and Kate, writer of The Descendants) and some blonde lady (Arrested Development, those Sprint Framily commercials) as the main couple where the dude is obviously an idiot and his wife constantly gets mad at him. It also stars the lady who plays Mona Lisa on Parks 'N Rec and she's amazing. Overall the show is very, very good and not nearly as lame as it sounds which I admit sounds lame as butt.

Best Show to Watch On Demand Even Though You Might Not Get StarzParty Down, Starz

One of the best sitcoms of alllllll tiiiiiiiime. SAID. This jawn was only on the air for two seasons because the world is a sad and disappointing place. Party Down is about a group of struggling actors who work as caterers in between auditions and shit. The show stars Adam Scott (Parks 'N Rec, absolutely everything, like literally everything) as Henry, a dude who had five minutes of fame after starring in a beer commercial and owning the catch phrase, "Are we having FUN yet?" It also has Ken Marino (the State, Wanderlust, Wet Hot American Summer, Burning Love, funniest dude ever) who plays crew chief Ron Donald (I mean, that's a good enough reason to watch right there, the guy's name is Ron Donald) and has dreams of one day opening his very own Soup R' Crackers, the fastest growing non-poultry, non-coffee franchise in Southern California. Honestly the show is fucking amazing and filled with an amazing cast: Jane Lynch (from all of Christopher Guest's shit and Glee), Lizzie Kaplan (Masters of Sex, va va va voom), the weirdo/adorable dude Bill from Freaks and Geeks/every Judd Apatow movie ever, the lady who played Sarah Marshall, all sorts of other ill muthafuckaz. Great show. Great cast. Great ending of this paragraph.

Stand Up Comedy Show That's Currently on my DVR but I Haven't Watched Yet for a Really Lame ReasonKatt Williams Priceless: Afterlife, HBO

Besides being maybe the best physical comedian out there, Katt Williams is hood as a muhg. This latest special was directed by Spike Lee, which I guess means something, and the only reason my wife and I haven't watched it yet is because her stupid friend Aubre said she'd come over with her stupid boyfriend to watch it, but they're too busy sucking each other's butts and I hate her.

Stand Up Comedy Show Coming Soon So Set Your Goddamn DVR for October 4thJerrod Carmichael, HBO

I saw this guy at Odd Ball Fest this summer and he was my possibly my favourite (in a lineup that included Louie CK, Dave Attell, Sarah Silvs, Hannibal Burress and Chris D'Elia). He's super relaxed and cool, kinda like Dave Chappelle, without the wacky shit. Honestly he's nothing like Dave Chappelle. He's just black. Whatever, he's about to blow up. Watch his special. Or don't. I seriously, seriously, seriously don't give a shit about anything you ever do.

Have you been reading my goddamn sports column every Friday on The 700 Level dot com? If not, I don't blame you, it's honestly not that exciting. JK IT'S FUCKING AWESOME. So if you want to read some ill ass shit, check out some stuff here. Or just look at this pic of a lady dressed up as a naughty giraffe. That's what I'd do, obviousslslsyylyyyyyy.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Yeah yeah yeah, this blog still exists, get over it... we've got a shitty-ass TV show to talk about.

Look, we all know this seez of da Bachelorette has been a colossal failure. There's no getting around that. No matter how Chris Harrison spins it, or what hilarrrrriousssss moments took place -- remember when that one guy wore PANTS?! -- nothing will change the fact that this seez has been lame as butt. Dorf has been a dorf. Cody might be (the key word there is might be) certifiably retarded. Markus's chest hair was dope, I'll give him that, but everything else about this year sucked, and Monday's Men Tell All episode was the ultimate suckfest (even though Ashley's preggo tits were out of control).

But I don't care about Ashley's tits. I mean, I obviously care about her tits, but I don't really care about her tits. The reason I am back from my blogging hiatus is to talk about something that happened the week BEFORE, when Dorf went on her #horse date with Chris the Farmer. Something happened on that date that left me completely flibber-flabbled and I just had to talk about it on the internet to a bunch of strangers who literally have nothing better to do than read this blog.

For those of you who don't watch the show -- DIE. ALL OF YOU, DIE. -- last week, the Bachelorette and some white guy went on the standard #horse date where they rode around on horses and laughed about horses and had a picnic-style lunch (without sharing any of their food with their horses). Then, after laughing and smiling and not paying nearly enough attention to the horses, they ditched the horses so they could go and have private time. During this mid-date break, Chris filmed his on-air interview and uttered a statement that two weeks after the fact, I still cannot understand.

Farmer Chris told the cameras, "I'm so excited to be with Andi tonight. No horses."

No horses.

That was the key to the evening portion of the date.

Not being around horses.

Now first of all, how could "no horses" ever be better than horses? Think about every situation you've ever been in and how much better it would've been had horses been a part of it. Your prom. Your first job interview. The NBA Draft. Imagine Jay Bilas interviewing Julius Randle while a giant horse stood over Julius's shoulder. Just chillin', eating oats, wearing a Lakers hat, being a horse, looking absolutely adorable. Are you telling me that wouldn't be better than just hanging out with a white woman? Who wouldn't want that? Farmer Chris, that's who. A guy could not WAIT to ditch a couple o' good ole fashioned horses.

What was he hoping to accomplish that he couldn't have done with horses? It's not like horses care about anything. They literally have enormous heads.

FARMER CHRIS: Oh Andi, I want you so badly. I want to just ravage you. It's just...

DORF: What, Chris?

FARMER CHRIS: I dunno, I just... I just can't.

DORF: What, Chris? Tell me.

FARMER CHRIS: It's Butterscotch and Ringo.

DORF: What about them? Their heads? I know. They're so big and hilarious. I've literally never seen anyth--

FARMER CHRIS: No, no. I like their heads. I really like their heads. I dunno, I just can't... you know. Not in front of them.

FARMER CHRIS: I just wish we were alone, Andi. That's all. Like back in Iowa.

DORF: Oh, Chris. It's just you and me here, I promise. Stick your tongue in my mouth. I wanna feel how warm you are.

BUTTERSCOTCH: BLLLEERERRRBBSSSBBFFLFPPSSSSHSHHH

FARMER CHRIS: BUTTERSCOTCH!

DORF: Chris, ignore them. Take me. Take me now.

Horse lets out a giant horse fart.

FARMER CHRIS: BUTTERSCOTCH!

DORF: I actually think that was Ringo.

CHRIS: RINGO!!!

DORF: Don't yell at Ringo! He's very sensitive!!

Ringo lifts up his tail and shits all over a cabbage.

CHRIS: WHY DO THEY HAVE TO ALWAYS RUIN EVERYTHING?

Chris runs away with his arms straight by his side and tramples through like 18 piles of horse shit as he leaves.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but let it be known that Chris was sent home later that night without getting the opportunity to have sex with a woman on national television. Frankly, I'm not surprised. I wouldn't want to have sex with a man who so excited to not hang out with horses. I liked Chris this year. I really did. But I totally understand why Dorf sent him home. What I don't understand is how those people in the Men Tell All studio audience didn't barf all over themselves the second Ashley and JP took the stage.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

So the wife and I was watchin Inside Amy Schumer last night -- and if you're not watching that show, you are living a goddamn lie -- and at the end of the ep, Amy introduced this lady, Bridget Everett, who is a singer/rapper/ill-nana comedienne who will blow your butt all over your face.

Check out her clips below.

She's my new favorite dime piece. The W and I bought tix to see her in NYC on August 6.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

"That's the beauty of it. I grab a dog, and I choke him, and I kick the shit out of him. All day long my foot up a dog's ass."

Last night, Bachelorette Andi Dorfberg sent home the black guy because she’s a racist ass bitch. The black guy she sent home, The Black Guy, was by far the only tolerable human being on this show – he was funny, well-dressed, a good dancer, he liked cookies -- and now that I think about it, that describes pretty much every black person ever. And yet Dorf still sent him home.

This came as a shock to absolutely no one considering Dorf has proven herself time and time again to be the type of person who has no idea how fun it is to have sex with a black guy. Of the seven dudes left on the show (I have no idea how many dudes are left, I’m just saying seven because honestly who gives a shit), one guy wears colored pants, one guy likes mashed potatoes and one guy claims that where he comes from, you NEVER mock a man for being thankful.

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Put the toilet seat down you insensitive prick!

And yet they're all still there, poppin' around the world like Mary Ping Pong Poppins, while fighting for the love of a white lady. The Black Guy has no idea how lucky he really is.

If you asked this world famous up-and-coming television blogger who also has a weekly sports column on a very popular Philadelphia website and over 1,000 (yep, that's One Thou-zand) Twitter followers, I’d choose The Black Guy to be the next Bach. But unfortunately, Chris Harrison and the rest of the white people running ABC would never let that happen because all they're concerned with is chugging grade-A certified cockkkkkkkkkkk.

This show fucking sucks like thirteen butts this year. I'm starting to think maybe it has always sucked butt. And that one guy JJ might seriously be retarded.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

I work in advertising (REALLY, EV? NO ONE GIVES A SHIT), and time and time again, companies like to play it safe and put out lame ass TV spots. But not my homies over at A1® Steak Sauce. Those muthafuckaz are renegades. Check out their new Facebook jawn, launching a rebrand that will OBLITERATE EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT STEAK SAUCE.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Every day at lunchtime, my stupid co-workers from my stupid office gather at the lunch table to talk about their stupid, lunch-filled lives. Each person sits with their phone flat down in front of them, periodically swabbing the screen and punching in their SECRET CODE to see if anyone's reached out to them. Some people bring their own salad dressing. Everyone sucks their own butt. To be honest they're all very nice and personable. I consider some to be very dear friends.

But I've never understood why someone would want to spend their only free hour of their miserable day in the same place that causes so much of that misery. The world around us -- specifically Center City Philadelphia, where my office is located -- is a RIDICULOUS place. This morning a homeless guy yelled at me to "go take a shit!" Last week the same guy told me my name was Larry. How could I not want to be a part of that? The City of Brotherly Lurve!

That's why I always go out for lunch. And this past Monday afternoon, I found the perfect spot to stuff my fat face with a turkey sandwich -- on a shady bench in Rittenhouse Park. I was amazed I found a seat. Right in the shade. All to myself. Directly across from a chick sunning herself. She had on one of those ridiculous bikini bottoms that ties on the sides, and her skin looked like it had never given birth to a baby. Unfortunately, she was flanked by two (2) dudes with their shirts off, both ripped and tattooed, but their backs were facing me and they had no way of catching me staring. So as my mouth watered and my sweat glands kicked in, I shoved clumps of dry, cold turkey into my warm, wet mouth.

It was marvelous. Absolutely marvelous. But then just as I got my mouth-breathing under control, a 4-year-old shithead came by and started throwing Chex Mix at pigeons.

I'm fine with feeding birds. I think they're hilarious. But this kid was feeding them RIGHT in front of me. Like, two feet in front, and he was throwing the Chex Mix directly where everyone was walking. And he was throwing so much Chex Mix. Not just like a sprinkling here and a dash there. Full handfuls, chucking it wherever he could. People were walking by just trampling over it. One guy smashed a pile with his wheelchair.

At first, there were only around two or three pigeons grippin' down. Then four. Then five. To the point where I fully expected to see the entire cast of Winged Migration before the hour was up. But the kid just kept feeding 'em. And feeding 'em! And feeding em!!!

Eventually, he started bending down, holding the food in the palm of his hand and trying to serve any pigeon within arm's reach. It was sort of adorable -- and I could totally see his little buttcrack peepin' out the top of his shorts -- but the pigeons weren't having it. They just kept ignoring the kid, and pecking away at the stuff on the ground, because pigeons are smarter than they appear. The kid wasn't.

Frustrated, he then started to throw the Chex Mix directly at the birds. Not around them. At them. At their measly, little heads. One bird (who was just trying to enjoy his goddamn lunch) kept getting pelted in the neck with crackers. He didn't seem to mind, but I had to step up and say something, on behalf of the entire animal kingdom.

"Dude, you're just nailing them in the head," I said to the kid, whose name wasn't Pedro, but might as well have been. He looked at me blankly. Then went back to the feeding. I laughed and threw my arms up in the air. Luckily, Pedro was running out of ammunition.

Meanwhile, the sunbathing beaut was joined by a FRIEND -- a slightly less attractive friend, but still a friend, with a body and a pulse and that's really all you need -- who then proceeded to slide her shorts down off of her butt, revealing an even SLIMMER bikini than the first chick's. Then she lifted her top over her head in that way that only women do, with both arms criss-crossing upward, until the shirt was off and her head popped out like a synchronized swimmer. I dropped a tomato on the ground. Pedro was oblivious.

He was also out of Chex Mix. But that didn't matter, because Pedro was now using an empty Zip-Loc bag to try and catch the pigeons. He was chasing them around, with the bag held above his head, lunging forward like Marion Butz in Madden '94... when you'd repeatedly press down on the speed burst to get a first down. Pedro caught nothing but air. I could essentially see one of the girl's buttholes.

After a few minutes of TRYING TO CATCH A PIGEON IN A BAG, Pedro took a rest, leaving just me and the girls. But soon he returned with a 20oz water bottle and attempted to spit on the birdies. Sip a little. Spit a little. Sip a little. Spit a little. His mother was changing his sister's diaper.

I wish I had a better ending, but unfortunately I don't. Pedro and his family soon left. The girls just laid there like logs. I made my way back to my soul-crushing cubicle. But for that one short hour -- in a place far away from my computer -- I was reminded of what it's like to be alive.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Last night on Game of Frones, a guy gouged out another man's eyeballs and then smashed his skull with his bare hands. SOUNDS LIKE AN EPISODE OF THE BACHELORETTE IF YA ASK ME LOL NO IT DOESN'T. Then another dude got his head split open by an axe. Then a guy's corpse was hung on a stick.

Whatever, it was all friggin' stupid -- although we did get to see that light-skinned lady clean her tits in a river, so that was pretty cool. In honor of how absurd everything is in this world, and the fact that I have to sit through two more hours of the Bachelorette tonight, I've embedded some clips below of The Top Four Most Ridiculously Violent Scenes in Movie History.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Before we talk about anything, before we talk about ANYTHING, we have to discuss Cody. The personal trainer. The guy who introduced himself to a national television audience by pushing a LIMOUSINE up the driveway. I don't even know what there is to say about him, but we HAVE TO talk about him. His dipsy-do haircut. His shoulder muscles. His TANK TOP POCKET TEE. Or how 'bout the fact that he's always super excited about everything! My wife actually likes him. Read that sentence again. Go ahead. Just move your eyes slightly back in this paragraph and just read it one more time. I'll wait. SHE ACTUALLY LIKES HIM. Thinks he has a certain "joie de vivre" that makes him fun to be around. And you know what? I AGREE. Personally, I want Cody to stick around for as long as possible. He's already my pick for the next Bach, hands dizzown. He's also the uncontested leader in the clubhouse of dudes who are most likely to tongue Andi's butthole. It's nice to see all of you again, too. It's been too long!

He's so ready!

Other than Cody, whoooooooooooo caaaarrrrrrreeeeeesssssssszzzzzzzz? These other dudes are not even worth talking about. THAT'S. NOT. TRUE. There's Ron. Yep, RON. The light-skinned black dude who grew up in Israel AND Barbados. WHY WOULD HE MAKE THAT UP? Ron is a beverage salesman. He sells beverages. Then there's Tasos and his DIAMOND STUDDED MILLION DOLLAR CHING CHING SUPREME CHING CHING BABY CHING CHING EARRINGS I'M AN ADULT LOOK AT MY EARSIES. I'm sure ladies all over the country are going bonkers for Josh M -- the dreamboat, strong jawed former baseball player who from here on out will obviously be known as "Joshem". Hmmm, anyone else that I missed? OBVIOUSLY. THERE'S SO MANY MORE DUDES.

How 'bout these two ruffnecks aka Mississippi muffnecks who never made it out da gate:

YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?THIS IS NOT A FUCKING GAME.

The first dude, THE DOCTOR, actually said to Andi, upon first meeting her, on national television, he actually said, and I'm not making this up, "I think you're running a fever because you look hot."

Dorf really shoulda sent him packin' right there. Shoulda just grabbed a baseball bat, slugged him in the face, and sent him on his way. Or that lamp. She coulda easily picked up that lamp -- HOW BOUT THAT LAMP -- and just blasted him. By the by, Lamp Guy bringing that lamp? By far the greatest move in Bachelorette history. The only other move that even came close to that was when Eric fell out of an airplane and died.

OH SHUT UP WHO CARES.

You gotta think that dying before these episodes aired was the greatest thing that could've happened to that guy. That being said, yes, it's sad that Eric died. And I understand that I'm not supposed to make fun of him. But he is TOO PERFECT and TOO BORING and there is literally nothing he can do about it. I'M SORRY, but Dorf needs a guy with MUSCLES who will tongue her butt whenever she damn well pleases!

SAID.

Back to the Vidal Sassoon all stars. Wow. Camps. The guy up above on the right. He actually asked Dorf to call him "Camps." Shocked that she sent him home. Absolutely shocked.

Any other dudes we need to discuss? I guess there are some dudes who are all right. Marcus, the dude with chest hair, I like him okay. Only because of his chest hair, but I fully support anyone who's 100% MAMMAL. And how 'bout the fact that Dorf has been just THROWIN her pussy at him the whole time. You can't deny it. While he was strippin, she was just chucking it right in his face. During one-on-one time, straight slingin' it. Four-seamers. Off-speed stuff. Right in his wheelhouse. Good for her, though. Good for her. It's honestly the first good thing I've ever seen her do. Taking her vagina and throwing it at a man who she just met non television. I'm proud of you, Dorf. I really am.

Is that Tommy Herr leading of third? WHAT UP, TOMMY HERR?!P.S. YOU SUCKED!

Dorf's sister is proud of her too. She told her so in the beginning of the first ep. "I'm so proud of you, Andi. Putting yourself out there." Yeah. Forget about the fact that she graduated law school. Or finally got away from her weirdo controlling father. Let's be proud of the fact that she's 'bout to slurp and burp with POCKET TEE TANK TOPTINIS.

WHY ... I SAY WHY do you read this blog? It's almost like self mutilation at this point. Like I'm writing nothing but drivel and you're reading it and neither of us are getting anything out of it.

HEY DORF. GREAT TO MEET YOU. I SELL BEVERAGES.

By the by, Ron... excuse me... RON... after meeting Dorf for the first time and having small talk for no more than 15 seconds, said to her, "All right, I'm gonna head inside, grab a little drink." Oh really, Ron? Is that what you're gonna do? I thought for a sec you might take your moped for a spin down Larchmont Blvd or maybe get in a quick 9 before bedtime. All right, dude. I look forward to seeing you in there. Grab a little drink. I can't WAIT to hear your thoughts on Black Cherry Wishniak.

What else, what else, what else? Oh, yeah, Episode Two, when they all went to the strip club. Two (yep, 2, that's not a misprint) men wore winter hats on that date. Two men. Who are real. Winter hats. On their heads. IN LOS ANGELES. THAT'S IN CALIFORNIA. And how 'bout the guy who ran the strip club, Jean Ralphio Sr., explaining to the guys that "Firefighters are one of the most popular female sexual fantasies." That blew me away. I had no idea. I really didn't. When I asked my wife if that was true, she said, "No. Black dudes are."

SPEAKING OF BLACK DUDES.

Tiki Barbs, Jr!

Marquel. I obviously like him. Snazzy dresser. He better be good at basketball. And the black and white cookie bit he pulled in the premiere was pretty dope. Where the hell did he get those cookies though? Does he just always travel with cookies? I didn't see him pull any cookies out of the limo. AND THAT WAS A BIG TRAY OF COOKIES. What if he just loved cookies so much and always had to have an entire tray of cookies with him? Like, what if he was a totally normal guy, smart, fun to be around, decent sense of humor, but just wherever he went, he had to bring an entire tray of cookies. And was always offering them to Dorf. I once saw Cookie Monster eat his pencil while writing a letter to Santa Claus asking for cookies.

Friday, May 9, 2014

Hey all you little chicken thighs and clam strips, the wife and I are off to the majestic peaks of Glacier National Mountain Lake Woods and Water Slidez. But when I get back, it's bing bong time as the new seez of da Bachelorette gets poppin' on Monday, May 19th.

I KNOW!

For now, you'll just have to entertain yourselves. May I suggest watching a movie from the #Top69. Or checking out this link to Jason Williams' top ten plays of his career (IT'S BONK-BUH-BONK-BUH-BONK-BONK-BONKERS). Or just look at this moose being a moose.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Sometimes when we watch Game of Frones we get so caught up in the drama and the dragons and the butts and the tits and the frogs and the buttholes and the okay that's enough, Ev... that we forget that these are actual human beings who act for a living. I'm not saying that we get convinced that dragons are real or that Valeryian steel is a thing, I'm just saying that the guy who played the White Walker on Sunday night is a real person named Steve. Acting is weird. Fantasy worlds are stupid. And this week, when they showed that goddamn baby being given to the White Walkers, we can't overlook the fact that that was an actual goddamn baby!

And the baby was like 3 days old!

Somewhere out there, two biological, idiot weirdo parents thought it'd be a good idea to lend their NEWBORN CHILD to HBO so they could film a television show. How is this possible? How could someone put their kid in this situashe? Every parent I know who has a goddamn 5-day-old is constantly freaking the fuck out and making everyone around them use hand sanitizer. But these parents -- THESE PARENTS RIGHT HERE -- felt totally comfs just handing over their newborn to a guy dressed up as a dirty ass swamp creature.

That's just bad parenting!

Look at this baby:

He's freaking the fuck out!

He's not acting, folks. He is not acting. He is legitimately filling his pants with shit.

As a TV director, you can't be like, "Hey baby, I want you to scream your goddamn head off and piss into this tarp." Babies don't understand stuff. I know this because I'm constantly telling them to stop staring at me and laughing and they never once listen! If you're a TV director, you just have to put a baby down and call "Action!" and hope he doesn't drool all over his own tits. For the record, this baby's performance was fucking dope. He probably filled his pants with so much shit. But that doesn't mean I condone putting goddamn babies on television shows.

That being said those White Walkers look like very caring and nurturing parents and I'm happy that they didn't chew that baby's face off.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Upside inside out? Isn't that just inside out? 'Cause upside is just standing up, regular, and inside out is backwards, so "upside inside out" is just plain backwards. I mean, I would understand if Ricky Marts said upside DOWN inside out, but I googled the lyrics and nope, it's just "upside inside out." You would think that after spending five weeks on top of the Billboard charts in 1999 -- and essentially kicking off the Latin Pop Music explosion across the world -- that SOMEONE would've recognized that these lyrics are total nonsense. But nope, it wasn't til a lowly blogger needed an intro for his Smokehouse Mountain Shakedown 15 years later that anyone stepped up and said anything.

Even "INSIDE inside out" would make more sense! It's even a little meta -- like living deep inside the spirals of your own crazy life -- but nope, "upside inside out." Those are the lyrics. Sold over 8 million copies. Won a Grammy.

COME ON!

This Week in the Life of Tony the Tomato Salesman

Sad!

RIP Tony. He and Nene had a good run, but I gotta be honest, I think it's a good thing that they're going their separate ways. Look, I know Nene very, very well (my wife watches the Real Housewives of Atlanta EVERY WEEK and omg can we please talk about Momma Joyce!) and she is A LOT to handle. I love her, I absolutely love her, but she's extremely self-absorbed. Last night after she was voted off, Nene thanked pretty much everyone who helped her along the way -- her husband Greggggggg, her kids, her manager, her fans -- but she failed to mention Tony. THAT'S JUST A SLAP IN DA FACE, YO.

This guy got into the best physical shape of his career for Nene. He dealt with her salty, cranky ass after she returned from her week with Derek. He took a sabbatical from selling tomatoes! And did Nene thank him? No. She didn't. You knew the answer to that question already. I just basically explained the whole thing three seconds ago. It is honestly amazing that this guy has not yet packaged his own tomato sauce. Are you telling me you wouldn't buy it? I'd absolutely buy it!

Candace Cams vs. Winnie Coops -- Round 7

I don't know why this made me lolz but it did.

This battle is OVAH. Winnie Coops is hawt and Candace Cams is a cobb salad. (No disrespect to cobb salads which are dope a.f.) Last night they asked Candace about something (I frankly wasn't listening), but her answer to the question was, "God. God is making all of this possible." Now I have to tell you (and I must reiterate, I was NOT paying attention to the conversation), there is NO WAY that God gives a shit about Dancing With The Stars. I know, I know, God is everywhere, God cares about everyone, God made french fries, but God is not spending two hours every monday night filling his pants with shit during this television program. Between the civil unrest in the Ukraine to curing my friend's dog's ball cancer, God has enough to worry about. Do you think Candace Cams has ever had sex with her panties pulled off to the side? I'd say no way.Things I Absolutely Cannot Handle

Mediocre sleeper hold AT BEST.

Every week, I talk about one part of this show that I cannot handle as well as something in real life that I can't even COME CLOSE to handling. This week: all the hugging the partners do while waiting for their scores and splinters.

How are these people so comfortable with each other that they want to constantly kiss and hug and rub each other's arms and is it really that cold in there? Is it like freezing in the DWTS studio? I like a good arm rubbing from time to time too, I'll give 'em that, but they're also sweating so it can't be THAT cold in there. My wife and I have been together for almost ten years and I've probably hugged and kissed her in public mayyyyyyybe four times. Maybe. And yet Meryl loves to sit back in Mak's arms holding onto him and nuzzling in his chest and smelling his sweat and you know what I actually get it I totally, totally get it.

Splinters are the worst though, the absolute worst. Even worse than paper cuts. YEAH I SAID IT. Because the thing is, when you get a paper cut, yeah it hurts like hell and you're immediately like, "HOW CAN THAT HAPPEN IT'S JUST PAPERRRRRR," but then you kiss it and put some Neosporin on and that's that. But when you get a splinter it's like full on butt bonkers panic for the next 90 seconds. Trying to locate the splinter, feeling where it is, GOOD GOD DON'T PUSH IT DEEPER WHERE ARE THE TWEEEEEEZZZERRRRRSSSSSSSSSS????

Mr. Froggington's Weekly Mirror Ball Watch

Hi guys, it's me again.

All right folks, let's calm down for a sec and check in with Mr. Froggington to hear his thoughts on who's gonna bring home this year's Mirror Ball trophy.

Mr. Froggington: Thanks, Evan. First of all, a little housecleaning to take care of before I make my pick: Please remember that I am in fact a frog, and do not actually watch television nor do I own a television nor have I ever owned a television or any other Japanese electronics in my entire life. Lily pads? Sure. Flies? Love 'em. Hopping? Could talk about it all night. But television dancing shows, not a clue. But still, the obvious choice this year is Meryl. It's not even close, it's almost silly at this point. I mean, I like Winnie Coops, and I think that handsome guy is pretty good too, and Charlie! he's not horrible! But Meryl is on a whole 'nother level. I am a frog.

Last Thing I Can't Believe I Waited This Long to Bring Up

Completely and totally hairless!

HOW 'BOUT THAT LADY'S RED UNDERWEARS?!?! So much for this being a family programme. For the record I really, really like that lady and think it's nice that she and Mr. Handsome Guy are dating. By the by, a co-worker told me that when he went to get his car in the garage after work yesterday he caught two people fucking in the car next to him! He said the chick was like 40 and pretty hot and she was all laid out on the passenger seat with her titties out and the dude (also like 40, and obviously having an affair) was just POUNDING away. I don't know why I'm sharing this, but I obviously had to share it! My buddy said he was like RIGHT NEXT to them, like right at their window and his car was parked in the next spot and when they saw him they froze and the dude rolled off and they were both really embarrassed. But my friend wanted to like give them a high five and tell 'em to keep on blasting, but instead he just got into his car and drove away. I probably would've asked to have my picture taken with them and then told them about my blog. He is currently telling everyone in the office. In fact, he is literally sitting in a chair as I type this demonstrating the position she was in while she was getting railed.

Not gonna lie, I'm a little aroused.

COME ON!

Do you want TVMMWMWMWWM delivered right to your inbox? DON'T ANSWER THAT OUT LOUD. If so, simply go to that column over there on the right that says "Get This Isht Sent to Your Email" and enter your address and click subscribe. Then, anytime I post something, it will be sent to you the next day. I KNOW. AMAZING. Do it now! Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, just check out these sleeping chipmunks. WARNING: YOU MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO HANDLE THEM. I COULD NOT HANDLE THEM.